Are we all mad here?
by I'mJustAGirlWithAnImagination
Summary: Clary Fray has hallucinations plagued with demons, when her mother cant take it anymore she sends her off to the Institute, a mental hospital, where she meets the sarcastic, narcissistic Jace Herondale. When terror arises from within the asylum are Clary's visions really that of the future? Is she apart of a world bigger than she could ever imagine? Or is it all in her head? Clace
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi there, hello, howdy, top of the morning to ya. This is my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoy. Please review and tell me what you think, constructive criticism helps :)**

**I (sadly) DO NOT OWN THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS OR ITS CHARACTERS, THEY ARE CASSANDRA CLARE'S!**

**Without further adieu I bring you CHAPTER 1~**

* * *

My feet clap the ground as I push past people bustling around the hectic streets of New York City. I run, yelling at bystanders to hurry and leave with me, that what's coming won't take hostages, it won't leave survivors. They either can't hear me or don't care, thinking I'm a drunkard or crazy, probably the latter. Hell, with the things I've seen maybe I am a bit psychotic; no sane person could make up something like that. Screams pierce through the daytime traffic, heads whip toward the sound as feet run in the opposite direction. I feel the terror and fear from those around me almost like a contagion, spreading like wildfire. The creäture lengthens its strides as it races toward me, soon it's in front of my face its stale breath stirring my fiery red hair. Up close I see the hot embers that make up its flesh, its jagged teeth that stick out of its grinning mouth, and horns curling out of pussing sores on its forehead. But I really notice how human its body structure is, the way it stands and moves, it looks like a possession gone wrong, as if the demon inside is trying to get out. I snap out of my daze and run down the alleyway, the creature's laughter rings out behind me.

"Run, girl. But, remember, you can't hide; once your powers show I will find you." He promises, his gravelly voice bouncing off the high stone walls. I run out the other side of the alleyway only to find everyone from before dead, their wide eyes glazed over, crimson covers the streets, seeping through wounds covering the bodies' chests and arms. There's blood on one of the shop windows that reads 'Ready or not here we come. You can run but you can hide.'  
"Boo." a voice behind my whispers, I turn around to find black eyes staring down at me, I shriek as I'm being pulled back into reality.

* * *

"Clary? Clary!" my mother's frantic voice pierces through the darkness as she roughly shakes my shoulders.

"I'm-I'm sorry, Mom. Just another episode." I squeeze my eyes shut hoping the rest of my vision and the demons that follow me back will be gone but when I open them, monsters that only I can see still plague the real world.

"I can't do this anymore, kiddo, your hallucinations keep getting worse and they're happening more often. You're scaring me, honey." She says shakily, blinking back tears. She leaves for her bedroom to make some calls, I hear my name come up a couple of times in her muffled conversation but I don't care, popping the movie "white chicks" into the DVD player, I attempt to calm myself. All throughout the movie her sobs penetrate through the closed door.  
When the credits come up a knock rings out from the front door, peeking through our small glass window is Valentine, my mom's boyfriend of three years. In all honesty, I hate the guy, not just because he's rude to me, but because he's a sexist pig and treats her awfully, he still flirts with others and picks apart her flaws. She deserves better, and I suppose my distaste is obvious because she won't let him move in until I graduate in two years. Yet, he is standing patiently with a worn cardboard box in his hand; one of his black shirts peeks out of the upturned lid. He smirks down at me like he's won a battle, and by his carrying his clothes into my house, I think he has.

"Clary, please sit I believe it's time we have a talk." My mom says coming into the room, suddenly businesslike. Valentine pushes past me and up to my mom to plant a sloppy kiss on her mouth. She steps away and turns to me, a flicker of guilt flashed through her expression before disappearing all together.

"Yeah, Mom, I think so too. Why does Valentine have a box of clothes with him?" I say putting as much venom in his name as humanly possible.

"Because he's moving in," She continues as my seething glare lands on a demon swooping in behind her ready to rake its claws down her back "which brings me onto what I really wanted to talk about; I feel that this is too much for me to handle, you're too much for me to handle." Ouch. My heart sags a little at her cold, clipped voice and what's coming next; I knew then that Valentine's detached ways are changing her.  
The demon stops its advance on her to turn and laugh at me. _Bastard._

"You're sending me away?" I quietly ask, though I know she'd just confirm my fear. She nods briskly, I quickly swipe away a tear that has dribbled down my cheek, I nod back unsure that my voice will stay steady if I talk, unsure that I will sound sane. _Ha! You wish you were sane._ A voice in the back of my head whispers, I quickly clamp down on it.

"It's called The Institute; it's a mental hospital with excellent visiting hours and teaching program so you don't have to worry about going back to school." She continues gauging my reaction; my eyes wander back to Valentine who is staring smugly at me and mouthing the words 'you lose, psycho.' Wow real mature, asswipe. But I know he's right, he was moving in and I was being kicked out with nowhere else to go but the asylum, this was just fabulous. I excuse myself, saying I need to go pack for my new home, a fresh wave of tears drip down my face with each heartbreaking step toward packing away my old life. I pack my sketches and paintings, my charcoals and the pastels my mom got me for my fifteenth birthday, all my clothes and beat up high tops, and a picture of me and my mom that was taken at Disney world the only picture I own without the monsters in it. The only picture she kept without Valentine in it. I slide onto the fabric seat of the passenger side of my Mom's 2004 silver Toyota Camry. Upon seeing Valentine making his way toward the back seat I lock the door, and smile triumphantly as my Mom backs out onto the road without scolding me or unlocking the door for him. It was her way of saying sorry. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly as I feel the splitting headache of another wave of visions, this would be the tenth one this week.

"Please please please please." I mumble to whatever higher power is listening.  
No one is ever listening.

* * *

It's the same vision. The same demon, the same message in blood, the same deceased beings, the same black-eyed creep, the same promise of powers. If they only told me what in the hell they're talking about.

* * *

"Wake up, Clare-Bear. We're here, time to get up." My mother crooned, thinking I'd fallen asleep. I wish I had, this vision didn't make any sense, and of course none of them do, but none ever repeat either.  
Grabbing my luggage we make our way past the iron wrought gate leading up to the cathedral-like building. I can't help but wonder if it was ever used as a church, I'll have to ask. A boy grins cockily down at me from the second floor, a halo of gold hair fits on his hair and golden eyes stare down at me like I'm game he wants to win, he wiggles his fingers at me in a wave before sauntering away. At first I think he's just a vision, but he looks too angelic to be a demon. Then I remember he's a patient in a mental hospital, and smirked like a dick, I roll my eyes and push him from my mind. A white-haired elderly man, makes his way toward us, limping, as he smiles broadly at me. His facial features remind of a bird's. He shakes our hands and says proudly,

"Clarissa Fray! I'm Mr. Starkweather, the director of this facility. Welcome to the Institute!"

* * *

**A/N: Yay or nay? Thank you for giving my story a chance **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi there readers! How was your day? Good, I hope.**

**ALSO, OMG THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR EITHER REVIEWING, FAVORITING OR FOLLOWING, IT MEANS A LOT TO ME! THANKS JUST READING MY STORY! YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME LIKE I WISH I COULD GIVE YOU ALL A HUG! I REALLY APPRECIATE IT! I WAS DOING HAPPY DANCES ALL DAY**

**Now we're off to see part dos of Clary's mad adventures *cheers*  
**  
**I (still sadly) don't own the mortal instruments or its characters, they are Cassandra Clare's  
**  
**HAPPY READING~**

* * *

7 parental signatures, 18 teary hugs and kisses, 3 promises to visit me every day during guest hour, and 1 goodbye later my mom was gone. Leaving me with 2 suitcases full of hoodies, sweaters, and drawstring pants which is apart of the dress code, 1 box full of valuables and art supplies, and 1 betrayed expression. Mr. Starkweather ushers me past the front desk where my mom and I parted, two guys in scrubs take my bags and boxes to do a check, claiming they'll put them on my bed afterward; one ignores me as the other winks with a glittered eye before walking away. Mr. Starkweather or Hodge as the patients called him orders me empty my pockets and hand over my laces; putting them in a bin he hands them to a nurse who giving me the option of my old shoes or slippers. I chose my shoes, not ready to give up_ all_ of my old life just yet. Hodge motions for me to follow him further inside the living areas; the inside is stunning with high vaulted ceilings and stone walls, words and sounds bounce off surfaces causing relaxing echoes. Patients meander around the common room some rubbing their arms while staring down at laceless shoes, others read quietly with their books resting on their laps as they sit in plush velvet chairs; I'm surprised how completely normal some look and how tormented others do. _Which guest will you be, little one?_ A voice hisses.  
_Well with you in my head I can't say I'll like the answer,_ I reply honestly before realizing I was engaging in a conversation about my mental health and how'd I'd fit in in an asylum with an imaginary voice in my head, I curse myself and close off my thoughts completely.

"Once you get acquainted with your roommate and eat lunch, you will go in for your physical, so any quick questions before you are taken to your room?" I shake my head and he continues his rehearsed speech,

"Okay, now Alec," he gestures to a guy rounding the corner; he was one of the people who took my things, the one who ignored me, "will take you to your room." Alec now wears small but earnest smile as he beckons me after him. His black hair hangs low on his forehead bouncing a little when he walks; his blue eyes are warm but hooded.

"Well, it looks like your sharing a room with my sister, Isabelle; she's cool, but good luck." He speaks jokingly as we stop in front of a steel door, hearing a muffled 'say it to my face, Alec' come from inside I grin and Alec laughs out an 'oops'

"Well, it was nice meeting you. . ." He trails off, looking at me expectantly

"Oh! I'm Clary." Holding out my hand for a shake, Alec, to my confusion, just places a stack of papers in it.

"It's your daily schedule, the rules, and the building's layout so you don't get lost" he clarifies.  
Just then the door to the room swings open; a tall girl stand inside, her long dark brown hair falls to her waist, her dark fierce eyes zeroing in a glare on her brother but soften as they move to me, her eyes smile before her mouth does, which stretches into a wide grin a second later. She clasps my arm and all but flings me into the room, my papers flying from my hand; she winks at me before turning around to face Alec, who is bending down and picking up my fallen papers, she snatches them from his loose hold and shoos him away. He scoots down the hallway, disoriented, but I have a feeling he always felt that way around his sister, yet he snuck a glance back at her, she shakes her fist sternly at him, a traitor smile on her lips cracking through her serious façade; he just shakes his head, chuckling, as he turned the corner. A Hispanic boy stands by the corner knuckle bumping Alec as he goes by but once he is gone the boy turns to me, laughing he mouths something like 'soon' before Isabelle shuts the door. Well that was odd.  
She whipped around toward me, her hair splaying in all directions, standing with her back pushed up against the door she offers a friendly smile, which I return. I make my way to what I assume is my bed, since my bags are resting on its plain white sheets, opposed to the other bed, covered in pink pillows with makeup strewed over the comforter.

"So you're Isabelle."

"So you're Clary." She comes over to me sitting on her bed, the room was small and cold, with one window that had steel bars covering it, trapping us in; this place felt like a prison.

"So what's it like here?" I ask, the amount of time I would be at this institute just now dawning on me. She snorted; opening her bedside drawer she pulled out black nail polish and started unscrewing the lid.

"About as good as group therapy sessions and in depth discussions about our feelings can get" I laugh and start unpacking my things, thankful for the small bits of leftover tape still on my artwork so I could hang them up.

"It looks like we have educational group and social workers together on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays," she has her face buried in my schedule, her painted feet propped up on a pillow "oh we also have therapy together on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Mr. Bane is fabulous." She strikes a pose, gasping as she looks up at my pictures.

"Damn Clary, those are amazing. But we should to go to lunch now so you can meet everybody." She hooks her arm through mine, leading the way, I laugh as we start to skip. Who would've thought my first real friendship would flourish in a mental institute.  
We skip all the way down to the cafeteria, which is already filled with people; guards stand by the doors and weave in between tables, keeping sharp eyes on the patients. A boy with a mop of curly brown and crocked wired framed glasses hails Isabelle over, when she notices she starts running over toward him, tugging me across the room with her.

"Everyone this is Clary, my new roommate; Clary this is my boyfriend Simon," she points to the boy who waved us over, "Aline," she gestures to a striking girl with features so sharp and angular, she acknowledges my existence with a simple nod, "Jace" she pointed to the golden boy from the window this morning, he now winks at me, "and, Maia and Jordan" she finishes pointing to the two people at the end. They're too focused on each other to notice that someone mentioned their name, or a new-comer at their table. Isabelle volunteers to grab our food so I slide into the only seat available, right next to . . . Jace; God help me.

"So, you're the new girl, I imagined you . . . taller and less . . . ginger." he says, smirking. A couple of girls strut by ogling over him as they sultry saying 'hi, Jace' in unison; I can hear the desperation in their voices, Jace winks back at them. An air of superiority wafted around him, this kid was clearly not someone to be messed with; but this ass had it coming.

"Shut up, dickhead." I say lamely, _that's all you've got, girl? _The voice asks, but not unkindly.

"I'd like to see you make me, that's if you can even reach my mouth to shut it, maybe grab a ladder or tie me down;" Jace counters suggestively. "Definitely the latter, that's la_tt_er not la_dd_er, I could see how that could confuse someone." He pauses, looking thoughtful, before the cocky grin shapes his mouth once again. "You know what, let's just make out and call it a day, eh?"

"Screw you" I spit, though I could feel the blood vessels in my face widen, and my cheeks grow warm. _Oh my God, I'm blushing_, I think, horrified

"That's even better, just name the place and time" The chance to smack him was almost too good to pass up.

I gape at him, "Listen Douchepants Asshat the First, I don't have the patience for this conversation, so if you can-" I begin, but suddenly black floods my vision and I can't see.

* * *

I'm subconsciously aware of a scream, _female; but who, _someone worriedly saying my name, _male; but who, _and something connecting with my fist, _hard; but what.  
"_Someone please helpme!"I beg into the void of my mind as yet another painful ail flicks up the side of my body, the response becomes a question. A short, unanswerable question, hanging suspended in the air waiting for an answer alongside me,

_ But who?_

* * *

It's the same vision, but this time I refuse to let it slip away, I demand answers.

"_Boo." a voice behind my whispers, I turn around to find black eyes staring down at me._

My eyesight blurs, the hallucination is trying to escape me; this, guy, thing, whatever it is, isn't going to get away this time. I grab onto to the front of its jacket when it makes to walk away, _Leather, impressive_, I think as my grip on the jacket stays firm. I blink, trying to clear my vision, I tug of the jacket with all the power I had in me. I was a pissed, stubborn, clinically insane girl, and dammit, I deserved an explanation for whatever this crap was. To my surprise, my eyes regain focus and the person stops walking._  
_He turns and I find myself face to face with the Hispanic boy from the hallway, his eyes are a very dark brown, not black, _but I could've sworn they were black._ I try to not think so much about it, and focus at the issue at hand.

"You're a patient, and you're real, Alec saw you too. Who are you? What do you want?" I ask, surprisingly calm, perhaps I wasn't insane; perhaps something else was happening. _  
_  
"Of course I'm real, that was a stupid observation. I'm Raphael Santiago, and you powers will be showing soon and I will be coming for you when they do, my employer wants you right away." Raphael says, examining his nails.

"Powers?! What. Damn. Powers?" I hiss out between clenched teeth, I'm livid. They talk about taking me when my powers show, but they don't tell me my abilities, I was done with this crap.

"You don't even know your own powers? Well it clearly doesn't involve intelligence. Perhaps you should ask you precious Jace; he seems to know plenty about what's going on, well more than you do anyway." He says nonchalantly, biting his nails. I was ready to give this kid a piece of my mind, I was shaking with rage, but I had to stay calm. I had to be in control.

"What the hell does that even mean?" I ask distantly

"It means he knows about your powers, and about what will happen to you. He knows that not knowing is driving you insane. Well, I grow bored of this conversation, see you in the real world, _Clare-bear_" he says mockingly before walking down the alleyway  
I don't have time to process what was happening before pain explodes from my side. I turn, the dead people from the street are rising, clawing at me, digging their way under my skin, I shriek as they pull back red hands. Somewhere in the distance I hear Raphael laughing, I hear my shrieking, I thrash about and flail as hand hold me under, pain erupts from my neck, my vision hazes. _Oh my god, I'm dying._ For the second time today, everything goes black.

* * *

I wake up to find myself in the comfort Jace's arms, I had so many questions I wanted to ask him, alarms blare a mechanical voice says 'CODE ONE IN THE DINING HALL', everyone at the table is looking at me with concern, I look up at the golden boy, his lip is bleeding, I raise an eyebrow at it.

"You shrieked and punched me; you have an excellent right hook by the way." I feel sticky and notice my fingernails are stained with crimson, as are my knuckles on my right hand

"Why am I covered in blood?" I whisper, my voice his hoarse, I really have shrieked, and I will no doubted lose my voice.

"You started scratching yourself. God Clary what were you seeing? I was so worried." Isabelle said her voice teary, from across the room Raphael blows me a kiss.  
Alec and other nurses stop next to our table. Alec bends down sticking a needle in my neck; pushing down the plunger he injects me with a milky fluid. I hear someone say 'It's just a sedative' before I fall into a blissful sleep.

* * *

I was mad, hell I was seething, but now all I can do, sitting in the small room, is collect myself and think. Locks of red hair dangle in my face I'm unable to brush them out-of-the-way for my arms are locked tight in this damned strait-jacket. 'For protection' I recall Alec saying when I was half passed out from the sedative they'd given me, 'so you don't hurt yourself again'. I wanted to tell them it wasn't me who did it, it was the vision, it twisted my thinking, making me not myself, but I couldn't; they would think I was mad. And I was mad, I was furious, but now I wanted real answers, and when they let me out of here I'm going to get them.

* * *

**A/N: Tell me what you think, constructive criticism helps!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hi friends! (I'm still trying to figure out a greeting so just go with it for a while)**

**IM SOOOOO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING SOONER. IT WON'T ALWAYS BE LIKE THIS. SCHOOL'S AN ASS. BUT ONCE AGAIN A VIIRTUAL HUG TO Y'ALL FOR READING AND REVIEWING AND FAVORITING AND FOLLOWING**

**I've always wondered if when authors kill off characters do then regret it later or do they just have tea parties and celebrate how they physically hurt us in such a well written** **way?**

**But anywho, nothing is really happening for me these past couple days; aside from stubbing my toe so many times I'm pretty sure there will be permanent scarring. Maybe that's why pinky toes are so small, generations upon generations of toe stubbing have caused them to look pushed in. But what about you guys? How has your week been? All is well?**

**Well here is chapter trois in le story, enjoy! Or shall I say jouir, or maybe disfrutar, how about godere. Perhaps we should just get on with the chapter and I stop with writing enjoy in different languages**

**I don't own the mortal instruments or its characters, they belong to Cassandra Clare**

**HAPPY READING~**

* * *

"Breathe in . . . and out . . . in . . . and out. Okay, good. Everything is perfectly fine, just minor scratches, but those'll heal up soon enough." Dr. Imogen Herondale said, draping her stethoscope around her white doctor-coat cladded shoulders she puts a blood pressure cuff around my thin arm, the machine beeps and squeezes my freckled skin, Dr. Herondale leans beside the table I'm seated on. Her pale blond hair tied in a tight ponytail at the base of her skull, but a few wayward strands are bobby pinned haphazardly above her ears, her blue eyes, which at some point may have been bright and carefree, are now dull and stressed, crowfeet wing out from the corners of them from years of laughing and smiling. Something tells me she hasn't given a real smile or a hearty laugh in a while.

"Well Clary, you're all set, I'll see you in another week, remember to—" she stops to glare at the doorway behind me, "Jace didn't I tell you_ not_ to come in while in working?" She remarked, rubbing her temples, but the smirking boy just waltzes farther into the room and lifts himself on the table beside me. Our legs and shoulders are pushed together as he presses himself close to me to prevent falling off the one person sized table, my rational thoughts cloud over and all I can think about is Jace's tanned shoulders crushed up against mine, I feel the muscles moving beneath his shirt move as he taps the beat to an imaginary song on his thigh. I bite the inside of my cheek, mentally kicking myself, pushing the thoughts from my head I propel myself off the table to stand next to Dr. Herondale.

"Clary, I'm sure you've met my grandson Jace; he has a habit of making himself known among the girl residents. Jace must I remind you once again about the 'no touching' rule? Can you please refrain from practically sitting on Ms. Fray?" She says exasperated.

"You remind me _again_ of the no touching rule? As if I've broken it? Well color me shocked, Grandma!" Jace holds his hand over his heart, feigning hurt. Over the course of his speech, he's gotten off the table and paced toward me, "And I'm here to collect _Ms. Fray_, she has group therapy, I'm being chivalrous and escorting her, thank you very much." He grabs my hand and swiftly escorts me to the door, I know he's up is up to something, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know what.

_Wouldn't this be an ideal opportunity to ask him questions, young one? _The voice echoes loudly through my head, I realize this would be as perfect as ever. I just hope that Raphael isn't lying to me about Jace's knowledge on the issue. Lost in my mind, I notice Jace has already left. It's a good thing I know how to get to therapy on my own; thanks to the map Alec brought me.  
Before I take a step, Jace sprits around a corner back toward me, he hauls me over his shoulder, jarring me left and right as he strides down the hallway. I open my mouth to protest and demand to be returned to the ground when he turns, taking us down the corridor to the right.  
I've studied the map of the building a thousand times; the therapy room was to the left.  
_Where was he taking me?_

* * *

"I'm going to ask you a question and no matter how crazy it is you have to answer. Okay?" I declare, my is voice uneven as the lights grow dim, I have to squint to see Jace.  
We've been walking down darkened hallways for about ten minutes; the paint getting duller as we delve deeper into the maze like layout of the Institute, the corners appear sharper as we turn them, the air is staler, the noises are more ominous; Jace had put me down after about five minutes when he knew I wouldn't be able to find my way back without him, after all this time he hasn't answered my questions about our destination, so I've decided to move onto the issue of my insanity.

"Clary, you've been asking me questions for the past ten minutes, all of which I've ignored, what makes you think I'm going to answer the next ones?" He looks at me from the corner of his eye, while raising an eyebrow.

"Because this is important to me, it's about why I'm here, at the Institute. . ." I say trailing off, this could either go perfectly fine, or could make him think I'm crazy, well crazier than I normally am.

"Okay, ask away then."

"What do you know about my powers?" I rush out. The blank look of confusion consumes his expression.

"What? Clary, there's this thing called enunciation, you should check it out; it makes all the difference in a conversation. But ask the question later, we're here." He retrieved a set of keys from the waist band of his pants, and unlocked one of the various locks that embellished the pair of sliding steel doors; after undoing all the locks he glided the door open, it's rusted wheels creaked as they drag across the floor, they're too locked up to roll smoothly, the sound echoes loudly throughout the room inside. I was suddenly grateful for our destination being so far away, because if it wasn't we'd get caught for skipping therapy; I made a mental note for Isabelle to accompany me to the session next time, so I would actually make it to the damn place on time.

"Well we have about 10 minutes down here before my grandma notices her keys are missing and Mr. Bane sends someone to find us." Jace mentions, as he walks into the room, throwing the words over his shoulder like he could care less if they were heard or not. The room was cluttered with brightly pigmented plant, such as vines, and hedge like things accompanied with massive flowers the size of a child's head. The old windows are caked with moisture and dust; the ones that look somewhat clean are draped with sheets to filter the sunlight. It holds a beauty that promises death.

"Yeah, well that's great and all, but where are we, what's this room for?" I say, annoyance creeps into my voice. Jace just smiles at me, like he found my impatience amusing.

"Well a while ago Hodge got a list of foreign plants that could be used as medicine and sedatives from a 'nurse' who worked at a mental hospital in Florida, needless to say that got shut down so quickly it hardly began, but Hodge had already bought the plants, so he keeps them down here. Not to mention the nurse was a con woman."

"Well that makes sense."

"What makes sense?"

"Well no parent would want their child injected with some strange flower."

"Well I use to think no parent would put their child, their flesh and blood, in an asylum; especially one like this. But that's clearly not the case. I mean, if you were your mom would you put your daughter in here?" He got quiet, emotions smoldered behind his hooded eyes; and for a second, loneliness and sadness flashed through his expression, but it was gone so fast I almost thought I imagined it. I thought about his question, if I were my mom would I put my daughter in here, my mind drifted to my hallucinations and how they scared her, how all she wanted was for me to be okay and how I'm figuring out more about myself in here than I ever would out there.

"Yes, I would put my daughter in here." I speak with confidence, but the look on Jace's face tells me I've said the wrong thing, I feel myself shrink back.

"Of course you would. Well come on, we have to go back, try to keep up but that may be a bit hard for you, due to your short legs." He sneers his eyes develop a distant look, he lopes ahead taking long strides away from me. I practically have to run to keep up with him, but after we round a couple corners he's gone. I'm left to find my way back based on memory, I make a noise of irritation, and choose to go right.

Wrong.

"Group therapy is to the left, little one." A smiling voice whispers from the shadows. But I recognize the accent.

"Raphael? What are you doing down here?" I squint, damn this false lighting, I could barely see a thing.

"I could be asking you the same question."

"Oh well Jace and I were-" I was cut short by laughing

""Yes. You and Jace. Have you asked him about your powers yet, girly? Hmmm? I bet he hasn't answered you, in here secrets are best kept unspoken, but you always throw them around like they have no worth. They do Clarissa, but no one wants to hear about your dirty laundry."

"Are you on something? Crack maybe? Can we have a conversation when you're not high?"

"Can we have a conversation when you're not so naïve?" That earned him a sharp blow to the cheek.

"I wouldn't be so naïve if you explained yourself." I reply icily.

"Tick Tock, Clary. Your abilities will surface soon, so soon, the power, I can feel it." He developed a hungry look in his eyes, I back up. My shoulders start to tremble violently, as if someone was shaking them, as if I was being woken up. But nobody's hands were placed on my shoulders. Raphael reaches out and makes to grab me, I shriek in my mind, as if trapped there, I scream desperately for someone to help.

_But who?_

One name forms on my lips, before shadows consume me.

_Jace_

* * *

"Dammit Clary! Wake up!" I'm being cradled in someone's lap; a sensation of Deja vu overwhelms me.

"Jace." The name just passes my lips.

"Thank God" relief crowds the person's voice. I open my eyes to find Jace staring down at me, his golden hair falls over his high cheekbones, and the emotion in his voice causes me to smile; he cares about me. The smile is wiped off my face as I see Raphael standing about a foot behind him, I push my body back, thrashing around to get away, fear sparks in my eyes, and I need to put as much distance between me and him as possible. Jace notices this and swings a feral gaze to Raphael, who in turn looks scared. But there's something else that's different about him. Jace gently rests me down, and slowly stands up; he steps closer to the Hispanic boy with a predatorily grace, like a lion who is deep in the hunt. There's something different about Raphael, something I can't place, what is it, what is it whatisitwhatisit. Jace is screaming at Raphael, the words 'what have you done to her' reach my subconscious as Jace's fist reaches Raphael's face. The realization hits me hard.

"Jace! Stop! Stop!" He pauses to turn to me, his fist swollen and stained with blood, just like the other boy's face.

"Why should I, Clary? You looked terrified when you saw him, you were shaking on the floor when I found you, and he just stood there, watching you, not even trying to help. So, Clary, why should I stop?"

I just ignored him turning to Raphael; he looked confused like he didn't know how he got here or who I was. But we are all in the Institute for a reason.

"Raphael why are you here?" I say cautiously

"M-m-multi personality disorder" He stutters, blood spewing from his mouth as he does. Damn, this dude was torn up. But this meant that everything he's ever told me was a psychotic lie, and I was gullible enough to believe it. I felt like kicking myself but instead I just turned to Jace,

"See? He didn't even know what he was doing, now can we please go to therapy?"

"Well, schizo, you were passed out so long the session ended, luckily for you I had Isabelle tell Mr. Bane that you weren't feeling well. Needless to say, he bought it; so let's get you back to your room in case they check in on you." He held his hand out to Raphael to help him up, once he had both steady feet upright Raphael ran away, going to who knows where. Jace just shrugged sheepishly, leading the way back to the living areas.

The walk to my room was quiet, both Jace and I wrapped up in our own thoughts, mine mostly consisting of the sketch pad lying on my bed right now, waiting to be drawn in, it relaxed me, with a pencil in my hand I felt in control. I could erase mistakes; I could put my emotions and thoughts into brushstrokes, able to be interpreted as the viewer's please. It may be meant to be one thing in my head, but it holds thousands of different possibilities. But at the end of the day that's what we as people are, we're all human with about 206 bones, a heart and brain, able to feel emotions, but we all have our own dreams and personalities. I may just be one person but I'm made of thousands of traits and quirks.

"Well, here we are, I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast, Shorty." Jace said his confident grin was back on his face, figures.

"Fantastic." I draw out, I am completely done with people for the day, gasping the door handle, I'm about to pull when I feel someone lean in behind me, their lips grazing my ear, out of the corner of my eye I see a golden flash.

"By the way, to answer your question, a lot." Jace murmurs, before turning on a heel and sauntering down the hallway.

"What question?" I shout after him, he halts

"The question I had to answer no matter how crazy it sounded, remember? So I'm answering it: I know a lot about your powers." He smirks before continuing on down the hallway. My head hurt and I had no idea what to believe, but I knew I would be doing my research, I refused to be so gullible this time around, and Jace was getting the interrogation of a lifetime tomorrow at breakfast. It struck me then how I hardly knew anything about myself. Come to think of it, I knew hardly anything about any of the residents, hell, the only thing people ever tell me is there name. I threw open the door, catapulting myself on my bed, only to spring back off and land on the floor, a sharp pain coursed through the left side of my body, I groan.

"Ten for the jump, seven for the landing." Isabelle laughs, as I ruefully rub my hip and mock bow.

"So how was your_ rendezvous?_ Was spending the day with Jace Herondale everything you ever hoped and dreamed?" She bats her eyelashes, I chucked a pillow at her face, "Tell me what happened but I have to go meet Simon for his physical in a couple minutes, so keep it short."

"Oh yes, it was a truly magical experience" I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes. She laughs and delves into the tales of Mr. Bane's group therapy, which she said she was going to drag me to tomorrow, even if she was hauling me there by my toenails. She shoves her slippers on her feet and I blurt out a question I've had bottled up inside me since I entered the room,

"Hey Izzy, why is Jace in here? In the Institute? I mean like what's his issue?"

"Honestly, I don't know, but I know he's been here for practically all his life. If he wanted us to know he'd tell us, right?"

"I suppose," I say disappointment simmers through me. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you in here?"

She struggled with answering this one, unsure whether or not I could be trusted.  
"Let's just say someone I was close to died tragically, and I needed help." She spoke with finality that was all I was getting out of her for right now. She swiped her hair over her shoulder and stepped outside the room, to join a waiting Simon, who offered me a friendly smile. Once everyone was gone I got started on my drawing, wrapped in my thoughts, my hand was on auto pilot, it was going faster than normal and I was pretty sure I wasn't drawing what I intended to draw, which was the statute in the courtyard, a place I got a excellent view of from my room. My hands started to heat up, it was burning, smoke filled the air and I looked down, my hand was on _fire_. Intoxicating fumes filled the room; I smothered the flames with my hand-stitched quilt. I didn't have time to be confused, and wonder how my hand turned into the human torch, because a scream pierced the air somewhere nearby, my picture of God knows what started to radiantly beam, I hesitantly stepped toward it, brushing the pads of my fingertips over the bold lines, something sparked in me, I gasped jerking my hand back before

ALL

HELL

BREAKS

LOOSE.

**A/N: Sorry if this chapter was boring it was kind of like a filler, leading up to the next one, but I hope it was still entertaining. Well at any rate, thanks for reading :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**HI there readers! **

**I know long time no type! And forgive me for giving you the lamest and most used yet true excuse but there's been a lot going on for me in my life, (i.e. writers blocks, not getting into a school's writing program, lost laptop chargers, ect.). But I'm back now so that's good. . . I hope.**

**Anywho this chapter is reeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaally short I'm sorry but I had to cut it half to kind of let you guys know the fic will prevail and that I was still alive!**

**No worries though the second part will be posted this week so. . . yeah**

**Cassandra Clare owns the characters!**

**happy reading~**

* * *

"Jesus, Clary. What have you done?" A voice murmurs, waking me up; I'm draped over a stiff cushion in a brightly lit room- the infirmary. My eyelids flutter open, absorbing my surroundings, which consist of four walls, one ceiling, three windows, ten cabinets, five beds one occupied by me, and one chair with Jace seated on it. He had his face buried in his hands, the dawn breaking on the horizon causes rays of light to shine through the window and catch his tousled blond hair, the muscles under his shirt are tensed, he looks worried. I endeavor to get up, only to let out a yelp of pain, my side is burning as if it was set aflame and my body is sore, I sift through my memories trying to figure out what caused the pain. . .

* * *

_Shrieks of horror and pain find their way to my ears, but my brain doesn't register it. No, my full focus is on my hands, they were on fire, I should be screaming, my skin should be blackened and burned, but it seems to be immune. The fire licks its way up my arms, spreading until it coats my entire body, it spreads until I am cocooned in it. In the pit on my stomach sorrow, guilt, and fear stirred restlessly, demanding to be felt, but I can't figure out why. The flapping of paper catches my attention; my drawing, still attached to my sketch book, ripples in a nonexistent wind. I trudge my way over to it and cautiously lean down to get a better view of what I drew, careful to not to set it aflame. I gulp in a scream of fear at the sight of the morbid drawing created by my familiar hand strokes. The picture had a single person on it; recognition strikes me hard and fast, a girl from my vision one who laid dead on the busy streets of NYC, a girl who stole a second look at Jace, a girl from the institute, a girl whose room is next to mine- Kaelie._

I'd set Kaelie on fire.

_Swallowed in flames as I was, she was screaming, back arched, arms flailing, pain was etched in every minute detail of her body._  
_The scent of scorched skin hit my nose, gagging me, I clumsily moved away from the picture and toward the bottle of water on my bed side table. Tilting it upside down, the cold liquid coated my body, the sizzling fire went out without a fight; looking down at my body there was no signs of charred skin._

It wasn't my skin I smelt  
_  
I yanked the door open; it clacked against the wall causing a resounding echo. Bolting from the room I followed the putrid scent. All the way to Kaelie's room, smoke billowed out from underneath the doorway, the screams I've heard before have long been silent. People bustled around it, some in suits, some in scrubs, some in NYC fire department uniforms, some pulling my numb body away from the door. I've done this; my power seems to be death. I'm a murderer. A reoccurring thought once again drifts through my mind.  
_

Raphael's employer is coming, oh shit.

* * *

"Clary? Shit, why do you always pass out around me? I mean I know I'm built like a god with a personality to match but come on. CLARY!" Jace's voice pierced through my dream like state. My arms swing as I try to get a grip on something.

Perhaps my life.

I feel my throat tighten, my breaths coming in shallow wheezes. I needed to get out of this place, I needed an escape. I looked toward the window.

_Bingo_

As if reading my mind Jace jumps up. "Don't you dare," He holds his hands out, as if I'm a feral animal about to attack. "I'm serious, don't do it"

_Too late._

* * *

**Sorry again for the short chapter, but I hope you still enjoyed. **

**Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hi dudes! (I still can't find the right greeting for you guys, any suggestions?)  
****So here is chapter 5 (which is more like part 2 of chapter four since they are so short)  
****NORMAL CHAPTER SIZE NEXT UPDATE!**

**But anywho what this AN is really about is my erratic and kind of annoying updating schedule. I really don't want to be one of those people who only updates every couple months but recently I haven't been extremely proud of my work and I think it's because I procrastinate and write it all in a thirty minute period without giving myself time to revise and junk. SO the point of all this is I have a schedule down for myself just so you guys don't hate me for not posting and I won't hate myself for not writing up to my own standards, basically ****FROM NOW ON I WILL BE POSTING A NEW CHAPTER EVERY TWO AND A HALF WEEKS! ****Yeah that way we are all happy :)  
serious question though, does anybody read these? Or is writing ANs pointless? Review the (not really a word) word 'steden' if you actually read them  
Cassandra Clare owns (once again, sadly) the characters  
Happy reading~****  
**

* * *

I was closer to the window than him, but his strides would be longer. Second floor, possibly fatal,_ what a shame_. Where would I go? Would he follow?  
"_Of course he will, he's the only one that can save you."_ The voice in my mind whispers to me, reverberating off the caverns of my skull_  
That's grand_, I thought, _but save me from what?_  
I could hear it smiling when it answers, "_Yourself"_.  
I charged the window, I decided then and there that I didn't need Jace to save me, and I didn't have to let Raphael push me around, I can take my life into my own hands, whether good or bad, I could live with my own choices, my own mistakes. Not someone else's.  
With two feet dangling off the ledge, I arch my back, and close my eyes. Pushing off with my hands, I wait to feel the pain that will occur from the collision with the earthy ground.  
But I don't fall; I stay balanced between the lush grass below and window, I stay there grasped by calloused hands that snake around my thin waist, holding me up of the ground. They start pulling me out of the suns brilliant ray and back into the fluorescent artificially lit room. My back is pressed flush against Jace's chest; the wind surges out of me as we smack the tile, my lungs greedily suck in air, as they try to regain what they've lost. We lay in silence for a few minutes; every time I shift his hold on me tightens. The urge to flee out the window washes over me, bathing me in desperation, it is the same frantic feeling I felt before, but locked in Jace's embrace I'm stuck, I analyze the sensation trying to find a root cause. It's almost like an instinct, like something bad is coming and I must make a choice.

_Fight or flight?  
_  
"Clary we have to get out of here." Jace whispers in my ear, the panic in his eyes flashes quickly before completely dying out as he rolls us into a crouch then helps me to my feet.

"Do you feel it too?" I question, attempting to reduce my heart rate to a normal speed, a rouge thought reminded me it wasn't fear making my heart race in Jace's hold.

"I don't have time for your long ass questions right now, sweetheart. If we want to get away from what's coming we need to go NOW!" He shouted the last part, propelling me toward the door.

"What's-" I begin

"I'm seriously considering banishing that word from your vocabulary," he interrupts "along with 'why'" He adds

"Jace? Clary?" A voice drifted in from the hallway, rounding the doorway into the room was Isabelle.

"Well, Finally! God, if you could just stop playing tennis with Steven's tonsils that would be lovely." Jace sneered at Isabelle

"Simon" Isabelle protests

"Bless you," He smirks, "but this isn't about rat boy, we need to take care of Clary before time is up." His expression was hardened with fierce protectiveness as he grabbed my arm, but not painfully, and began pulling me closely behind him as he moved toward the doorway. I dug my heels into the floor, taking a stand.

"First of all, I'm right here so stop talking about me like I'm not, secondly, who died and made you ruler of my life, I can take care of myself." I say holding my chin high, and my chest out, but question came tumbling out of my mouth as I replayed what he said in my mind, "Time before what?" although the 'what' came out muffled as the blonde boy covered my mouth and waggled his finger. He then shared a glance with Isabelle before nodding in affirmation for her to answer

"Uhh, well, you see, you may have used your powers to summon demon fires, which possess and steals a soul, and in order to be free of the demon the soul has to trade its place with another soul. A soul for a soul kind of thing, and now Kaelie, the soul, is coming here . . . for your soul" She carefully chose her words.

"So my powers are demonic?" I quietly asked, my gaze focused on Jace's converse, just like mine they were stripped of their laces, I refuse to let my mind wander to Kaelie's burnt body, and her eternally aflame soul.  
_Even though it should be you_, the voice grins as his words hurt me, but the truth always hurts.

"No, your powers vary and can be difficult to actually control, which is why even though there's very few like you there's even less that can harness it. So yours truly will help you master your abilities, but none of us will be alive to experience that if we don't leave within the next," Jace said, frowning down at his wrist watch checking the time. "Shit, we won't make it." He dragged his hand down his face, ushering all of us behind Dr. Herondale's desk, a photo of her and Jace by a lake was framed in a '#1 grandma' picture frame by her mac computer. Despite everything, my lips curve into a smile, they looked happy, like no troubles could hurt them there. Now turning to Jace he looks so broken, like an angel does as he's being cast to Hell.  
Darkness surrounded us as someone cuts the power. My breath hitches, Isabelle and Jace protectively slide closer to me, curiosity as to why they were going out of their way to protect me thread through my thoughts. A sickly sweet voice rang out in the void; I unintentionally grip Jace's hand.

"Three blind mice. Three blind mice. See how they run. See how they run. They all ran after the farmer's wife. Who cut off their tails with a carving knife. Did you ever see such a sight in your life? As three blind mice?"

The sound of metal scraping against the walls sharply hits my eardrums. Horror fills my expression and pure terror pierces my lungs, collapsing them. She kept humming the song, the melody only to be interrupted by gasps of pain, her shoes squeaking of the shiny tile, the sound getting louder and louder. Tears clogged my throat as true fear coursed through my veins and bones as I felt like death was serenading me into my grave. I held my breath and closed my eyes, I feel a ring of fire around my mouth, opening into a silent shriek I will the pain to cease, noises surround me, laughs, sobs, muttering, insects buzzing around, I feel my mind unravel, slowly going mad. Suddenly, everything went silent, something was off. Wrenching open my eyelids, I find myself standing in a hall of mirrors, each one a reflection of myself, each one displaying my traits good or bad, some portray my worst fears.

Me sitting in a ball, screaming for my mom, my sweat soaked hair clinging to my forehead. In another I'm back with Isabelle in our room as she weaves my hair into an intricate braid, laughing as she tells me a story of her and Simon. There's one of me burning Jace, setting him on fire, a sadistic smirk is welded onto my mouth, I rival in his pain. I ball my fists tightly, and repeat the words _I'm a good person_ in my mind as if saying it enough times will make it come true.

"Woah there, can you stop Godzilla gripping my hand, it's beginning to hurt?" A familiar tenor comes from my right. Jace. I wrap my arms around him, he's real, _and he's here._

"Where are we?" I ask, grateful that I don't have to brave it alone, but embarrassed that he can see all my fears and worst moments.

"We're in your mind, if that makes sense. A test, if you will, the last barrier to save your soul from the demon fires. Before you ask, I'm here because you were holding my hand when the demon put you under. Anyone in physical contact with you gets thrown in here, as does their soul. So how about we don't fail?" He says, frowning at the mirror of me burning him, muttering "pleasant" as he continues down the hallway.  
So don't fail the test and you will eternally burn, dragging someone else down with you. _  
No pressure or anything._

* * *

**A/N: Just a reminder, the chapters will go back to their normal longer lengths next update. And from now on the story will be updated every two and a half weeks. Well at any rate drop a review? Maybe? Possibly? Constructive criticism helps! Meh, I didn't really like this chapter but the next one will be good I'm already working on it ;) THERE SHALL BE CLACE MOMENTS ;D  
Thanks for reading~**


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